Boxing and the Necklace
Occasionally I need to tell a story before I tell the real story. Today is one of those times.
Elaine’s father was a man. I know, you are thinking, of course he’s was a man. That’s the way it works, fathers are men. But Elaine’s dad was ALL man. There was NOTHING feminine about him at all.
Elaine’s father (Dave) spent 30 years in the military. He was a decorated veteran of two wars. He bathed with unscented soap. He drank cocktails without mixers and beer in cans. He read western novels. He used construction language, but not in front of women or kids.
Dave ate meat, some of which he hunted himself. When he determined he no longer wanted to hunt deer and elk, he starting hunting pheasants and geese. When he lost the desire to hunt birds, he just cleaned his guns. Dave was all man.
Dave watched the evening news. He loved politics and hated politicians. He watched football on Sunday and boxing on Friday nights. (I watched a bunch of great fights with Dave.)
Boxing was important to Dave. He loved to teach boxing, as much as he liked to watch boxing.
Dave was blessed (or cursed) with three lovely daughters. Sadly, no sons. I say sadly because Dave had no children of his own to share his great knowledge of boxing. Except Elaine.
Elaine will tell you when she wasn’t reading, knitting or playing Helen Keller (she can tell you that one) she was hitting a speed bag with her dad.